A weekend of London pride

Basically, a bunch of gays having a party in the street

Not usually one to embrace my gayness when I’ve competition (I prefer to be the only gay in the village = the centre of attention), being a part of the 20,000 strong parade was like a nightmare in my head before I got there. Luckily, through the years, I’ve trained myself to just do what I’m reluctant to do (by doing), so I did quite willingly.

Loved it!

Even led our little pack down the street…

I was with my cousin, Jo. She’s the one with hearts on her back and she’s co-chair of Direct Line’s LGBTQ — um — something group. I forget the exact title. There’s an involved story that involves the Grinch and a fairy, and some turtle doves, when suddenly there was a spare ticket so I took it.

Her friend Emma was also with us but she was in a marching band so wasn’t with us, if you get my meaning.

This is what our Direct Line bus looked like for a good 2 hours, there was a lot of waiting around. A lot of ‘any minute now’ but no movement. We were just one bus in a string of buses and floats and glitter that just stretched and stretched, quickly getting lost behind the banners.

Delta Airlines next door had an open-top 4×4 DJ booth that lightened the mood.

Finally, we got moving and I got drinking — my delay was my bladder because there was going to be no toilets for like a whole hour or so — and I got dancing.

And then Jo needed to get some photo’s from outside so out I stepped before my adoring public…

Ah, what a life.

Then, we had to fight through the crowds to get any place, eventually ending up in this pub with Emma and a couple we’d met. I can unhook a bra with one hand, it is now confirmed — I was already confident that I could, not sure why.

We would’ve stayed out but we’re not made of money so fought through the crowds to get home.